


End begins here

by HalfBlood



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Fear, M/M, OBVIOUS CHARACTER DEATH, solangelo, tbc, unfinished work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfBlood/pseuds/HalfBlood





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_**Prompt** : "You die and death appears before you to guide you to the afterlife. You expect a dark and cruel creature, like they tell on Earth. But, he's actually... a dork. He's a pale, skinny kid with dark hair falling into his eyes, wearing jeans and a hoodie." - @writing.prompt.s (Instagram)_

 

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WHITE. There is nothing around me but white subtle light.

“Breathe. I forget that I have to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. That‘s weird. My pulse. Where’s my pulse?” I put my thumb over my wrist to check the silent pounding within my wrist. None. I feel nothing. “Wait. What is happening?” I am freaking out. “Count. I have to count. I’ll calm down after counting. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.” No. Counting does not work. My brain is about explode. I can feel it. Damn.

While I am busy dealing with my overly anxious state, I hear silent footsteps. I am not quite sure where it is coming from, but it surely is coming for me. Hide. I probably need to hide, but where? There is nothing here. This place is even worse than the last institution I was in. Hold on. Is this also an institution? Will those footsteps put me to sleep? Will they also promise to help me?

“Run.” My own brain is shouting at me. Gotta find a safe place to hide. I run. Even though I’m not sure whether I’m just running in circles. My footsteps drown the sound of the approaching presence, enough for me to lose my calm even more. However, it seems like the other person is more surprised than I am.

In front of me, a pale, skinny kid with dark hair falling to his eyes, wearing a tattered skinny jeans and a black hoodie with a big white skull printed on it. His eyes look frantic and scared as hell as he stared directly back at me while twisting the hem of his hoodie. His supposedly dreadful appearance does not surely match his actions.

“H- hey.” He says. And my response is a very comprehensible yelp that is between surprised and scared which makes the other person shout and fall on his bottom. We, then both look at each other with terrified and anxious stare.

What the heck? Why does this kid look more terrified than I am when he is the one who disrupts my hysterical panic attack.  
  
Another minute of long stares and awkward shuffling passes by; making the already anxious me more hysterical. Not wanting to prolong the agony, I reach out my hand to help the pitiful kid up on his feet. The lanky kid first hesitates to take up my offer before he reaches out with his shaking little bony hand. I pull him up without effort and wait until he finds his sense of balance.

“Are you okay?” I ask just to not have another awkward and weird staring contest.

The kid shuffles again and digs his shoes in imaginary sand below our feet. He stays like that for a moment before he inhales a lungful of air and straightens himself. Somehow, his aura changes. He goes from “take-my-candy-and-I’m-gonna-cry” to his “no-nonsense” expression.

My heart which slows down a bit starts skipping again inside my rib cage. Just like the calm when the roller coaster starts climbing and how fast it picks up speed as it falls down. Something is wrong. I know it. My paranoia bubbles and rises like water reaching its boiling point. I start to shiver while sweat breaks out of my pores and forms countless rivers on my chest and back.

The kid opens his mouth. “I am...” I do not hear anything that the kid says. I only see him opening and closing his mouth. The words that come out from his lips are so foreign to me that even if I try to lip-read, I will still not get it. This happens most often now. My body automatically tunes out everything around me. Why does that happen? I don’t know. It just happens. It used to bother me a lot but not anymore. I become so used to it that I just let it fade away. It is probably just my anxiety messing with my already jumbled brain.

I might have been staring blankly at the kid for quite a long time because the seriousness on his face earlier is now replaced by a confused frown with a slight hint of anger.

“Ah. Yes. What is that again? Can you please repeat it?” I ask. More formal than I prefer. I have to be polite and NORMAL. If this kid is really from another institution, he cannot know. He MUST not know. I am very NORMAL; thank you very much.

The kid looks horrified tho. I guess, he does not like repeating himself over and over again. But I do not give him much choice. Do I? I need him to repeat it. He stares at me some more. Probably looking for clues if I am just bluffing him or not. I just really hope that he will quit staring at me every single moment. It’s unnerving and it makes me more anxious.

The kid exasperatedly sighs. Good. He knows that he has to give up when he is having a losing fight. So he starts saying “As heaven’s orders, I am here to guide you through your final journey. I will help you finish your most important tasks in the world of the living before you can move on to the afterlife and be tried in front of the divine council.”

I hold my index finger up, as if asking him to stay silent (which is not off the mark), I really do want him to stay quiet. I’m still processing the previous information. I need a few minutes of silence to concentrate and process everything before I shut down.

Breathe. Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Exhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“I have a lot of questions in my head and you better answer each and every one of them before my brain scatters into a million pieces.” I say. “First, am I dead?” Nod. Crap. “How did I die? What happened to me? Did someone kill me? If yes then who? Was it someone from the institution? Was it that guy who beat senselessly? Or was it my uncle? He really wanted to kill me. He even tried pushing me from the top of the staircase. Or w—ait, did I kill myself? Coz you know, I’ve been planning to do that. I was just really f—-“ Am I making sense here? I don’t know anymore. My whole body is freaking out. It shudders and trembles uncontrollably as every word I utter slides out of my tongue. I feel the rush on each word. They quickly climb up my throat like soldiers running across the enemy line. Fighting for dominance. Taking every sensible word that they come across with down.

I need to do something with my hands aside from scratching my skin red. Even my feet are humming—— no, rather than humming, they are more like roaring. They are mocking me for staying. Saying that I should have run faster, if not faster, then I should have been wiser. Wise enough to ignore the kid, wise enough to not let my mouth run, wise enough to not die. Well, I was no where near to being wise even when I was alive. I always make bad decisions. I always choose the wrong choice. I am THIS stupid.

What can I do? Things already happen. I cannot undo it. There is no ctrl+z here. This is life. (or should I say death?) Well, whatever. This is real. So yeah, I died. But, how? I wanna know.

Ignoring the flashing signs before me, I straighten my back and inhale a lungful of air. "How did I die?"


End file.
